


Revelation

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Memories, Mentions of Underage, Prostitution, RoboSam being a dick, mentions of John Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had his own stories to tell, and this was the time he decided to tell them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelation

It was another awkward night in a motel. The hunt was done, and there was really nothing left for Dean to say to his soulless brother. He’d accepted the fact that Sam hadn’t come back exactly “right” from his time in the Cage. He knew what was missing, he’d seen firsthand what the results were. 

They’d come to terms with the fact that there was no point in Sam pretending to be something he wasn’t, and Dean had gradually become accustomed to this new person. He wasn’t Sam, that was for _damn_ sure, but they’d agreed that the pretense was unnecessary when it was just the two of them. 

Unlike most nights, Dean was in a conversational mood. He’d had a few too many to drink and was rattling off childhood stories in a sloppy, tipsy manner, thinking T1000 over there on the other bed was just ignoring them. He didn’t mean to get into the stuff that wasn’t pretty. It was just a natural progression of his whiskey-addled brain/mouth connection that sent him off in this direction.

“Lots of times, you know, Dad just didn’t come back when he said he would. Food ran out, money ran out, I did what I could for you…”, he mumbled, not really sure where this little talk was headed. 

“Dean, I lost my _soul_ , not my memory, you dumbass. I know exactly what you did. And I know what I did, too. It’s not all pretty, but it’s the truth, and it’s not like I’m in a state of mind to console you anymore. Yeah, I need you to have my six, I already told you that, but I’m not going to coddle you. If you want to talk about that shit, we can talk about it. You’re going to get the truth, though, and you don’t want the truth, so maybe it’s time for you to shut your hole and pass out.”

“Man, what the fuck? You’re being a dick when I’m trying to remind you that I went hungry for days before I found a secret stash of Dad’s cash in our apartment, or that I risked going to jail so I could shoplift you something warm when the weather started to turn. You were my brother, asshole.”

“I _am_ your brother, asshole. And I’m saying you’re not the only one who made sacrifices. You’re not the only one who did things they didn’t want to do so that we could get by another few days. Dad’s secret stash of money. Honestly, Dean? Come on.” Sam let out a bitter, low chuckle that sent chills up Dean’s spine.

“The fuck are you talking about, man?”

“You don’t want to know this, Dean. If you never believe anything else I say, ever, as long as we live, whether I get my soul back or not, believe that. You **do not** want me to give you the answer to that question.”

Dean bristled. “Fuck you, don’t start that shit if you’re not going to end it. You got something to say, dick, say it.”

“You’re going to regret this, Dean. I said I wasn’t going to fucking coddle you. Just back off and forget about it, I’m serious.”

“No. You have something to say? You have some kind of deep dark secret that you never would have told me before you…”, Dean hesitated, not sure exactly how to finish his sentence, “well, just before. That’s fine. I’m a grown man, just come on out with it, I remember you as a kid, you’re not going to tell me anything I can’t deal with.”

“Well, all right”, Sam-not-Sam-RoboSam-no-soul-Sam replied. “I was twelve the first time. I knew you’d stolen me a coat but there still wasn’t enough food. I’d seen the boys across the street. I knew what they did.”

Dean didn’t think his heart could break into more pieces than it had already been smashed into, but he had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. Still, he stayed quiet.

“I watched them a day or two, figured out what worked. Then I went out after you were asleep. I wore clothes that I knew were too small for me. Had to intimidate a few of the other kids who took exception to me encroaching on their territory, but that wasn’t hard. The first time was…I can’t really call up the feeling right now but I think it was scary. I was nervous, maybe, apprehensive. But I knew what had to be done. We had no Dad, and no food, and no money. So when the guy pulled up in his car, and offered me $40 to get in, I said yes. What the hell? $40 was a _shitload_ of money. We could eat for a week on forty bucks, easily, maybe even longer than that. So I got in. We drove around the block, I choked on the guy’s cock for ten minutes, did the best I could not to spit out too much jizz, and took the money.” He stopped there, not thinking that there was really all that much more to say.

“Twelve? You were **fucking** twelve, Sammy?”

Sammy. Seriously? Dean hadn’t called him by his name, hadn’t called him Sam, let alone the sometimes affectionate and sometimes insulting Sammy for weeks. 

“Yeah, I was twelve. It was the first time but it wasn’t the last but you’re in your thirties now, for God’s sake, and I’m not going to let you go on thinking you miraculously _found_ secret stashes of money that John might have left hidden in a drawer or a closet in some motel room or month-to-month apartment. You wanted to know the truth? Fine, there you go. Truth. Maybe I’m a soulless bastard, and maybe you don’t want to acknowledge that I’m in some way still your brother, but I’m not going to lie to you now. No point, really.”

He waited for a response and didn’t get one. So he added, “Just something that had to be done, man, don’t flip out or anything. Wasn’t any worse than the first time I had to slash an iron bar through the restless spirit of a six year old, and that wasn’t even six months later.”

Dean was reeling. He thought he had a handle on it for a few seconds, but then made a mad dash for the bathroom, where he puked and then dry-heaved for a solid half an hour.

So, he still had these protective feelings for his little brother. The little brother who didn’t exist anymore. 

Or maybe he did.

Sam didn’t feel any remorse for having recounted this bit of his history for Dean. He did, in some abstract and hard-to-understand way, feel _something_ when Dean started throwing up. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Too late now.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kinkmeme prompt ages ago.


End file.
